One Hell of a Life
by Kiharu Aroukii
Summary: Ancient Greece Setting. Malik had simply been living by himself, disgraced by his father's execution when he'd been framed for the murder of some merchant he hadn't heard of. Then he met up with the brat of a Lord, who seems to really like Malik. . .


**SETTING: ** Ancient Greece

**PAIRING: **Marik x Malik

**REASON:** I actually lost in a duel to Andra and she wanted a one-shot from me. The way that my mind is writing it, though, makes it seem as though it'll be 2-3 chapters instead. I won six times, she won three times. Not bad for not dueling anyone since the cards first came out oh, 8 years ago.

Personally. I'm impartial to this pairing. I like Marik, but Malik is 'meh' to me.

My favorite YGO! pairings:

Seto/Jou

Bakura/Ryou

Marik/Malik

Otogi/Honda

Pegasus/Jou

Yami/Yugi

**EDIT: **This isn't going to have a lot of detail because I have an extremely rude and disgusting brother breathing down my neck to get off the computer. So I imight/i revise this at a later date.

--

Really, Malik didn't know why he was there. There must've been some case of mistaken identity, because he sure as hell didn't kill no merchant! Hell, he hadn't killed anyone ever... unless spiders counted. Seriously, they ideserved/i being wiped off the world!

Back to reality.

Because of this fucker that apparently 'witnessed' the merchant being killed, he was framed for killing said merchant.. and was here. The damn palace of Lord What's-His-Face. Hurray for trials. Note the sarcasm.

"Keep moving, street-rat!" The guard that was to his left growled at him and kicked the back of his knee, making Malik collapse to the ground.

"Dammit! I would keep walking, if you would stop ihitting/i me, you dumb plebian!" Another kick to his knee (just as he was getting up) sent him to the ground chin-first. The air knocked out of him, Malik barely warded off the kick to his stomach with his knees, having curled into the fetal position.

"Enough, Duke! We don't need to get in trouble by Lord Asino for beating this street-rat!" The other guard hissed, pulling 'Duke' away from him. 'Duke' listened to him, so he guessed the man was the Captain or something. Was street-rat all they could call him? At least try to be original! The guards resumed dragging Malik to the palace, snickering and jeering at the Egyptian runaway. They managed to bring him up to the top of the exceeding-unneccessary amount of steps (that served no purpose) before he could breath normally again and his damn legs stopped hurting.

He was dropped in front of an empty throne and, in a case of extreme stupidity, left the flaxen-haired boy by himself while the guards wandered off, gossiping about some 'offering' being made to the High Priest back in Egypt. With a quick glance around, the deeply tanned boy took in all the splendor and shininess and ... priciness and extremely shiny and extremely breakable/i crap decorating the large hall.

With a slightly demonic grin, Malik started on the sculpture nearest him, shoving it quite bluntly right off of its pedestal. With a delicious smash and the sounds of scattering debris, the prisoner began knocking sculptures down and throwing vases and busts clear across the room. It was only after he had decimated the ientire/i room that some genius figured that hey, maybe all those crashes and glass-shatterings aren't a good thing and checked it out. Only a glance and he was running down the halls, screaming for help.

Malik was stomping on a chunk of something-or-other that didn't want to break as well as everything else had when at least two dozen guards ran into the room amd surrounded him. They threw him against the wall and pinned him there, all hissing and yelling for his head. It was a pretty head, but it was his, and he didn't plan on sharing it anytime soon.

"Hold your positions." A deep and calm voice spoke, and it was obviously someone important because every soldier in the room scrambled to make some military formation and bowed to the door. Malik looked up, several points on his throat bleeding from where the guards had so-kindly shoved their spears closer than needed.

A man with deeply tanned skin and dark eyes (Malik couldn't see what color they were - yet) stood there, his blond hair standing almost perfectly vertical. An aura of 'I'll kill you in the most painful way you can imagine' radiated from him, so much so that Malik, a masochist himself, drew back. The man looked at Malik for a brief second before turning to the Captain.

"Why is this child here?" Malik bristled, suddenly angry. He was small, but he looked no younger than 14! "You know that I do not allow the execution of children. Bring her back to her-"

"bWHAT/b did you say!?" Malik snapped, stomping up to the man and jabbing his index finger into his chest. Why did he have to be so damn tall?! "I am ino/i child, and I am no GIRL!" Malik attempted to shove the man but the Captain, having recovered first, twisted him around and punched his cheek, throwing him to the ground. He sneered down at the Egyptian, sneering cruelly.

"No common brat is allowed to touch Lord Asino! You're lucky I haven't killed you already!"

"Lord Asino?!" Malik spat, "Lord Asino is an old man with a wrinkle for every year he's aged!" The Captain was about to punch him again when the bastard with blond hair stopped him.

"Control yourself, Captain Tristan. Leave us be. I wish to speak to the 'boy' alone." A dark glare, and the Captain pulled his men out, slamming the door shut with a brief bow to the man. "Well now... what is your name, boy?"

"My name is Malik, not boy, you low-class prick!" Malik himself had pulled himself up via wall and wiped his mouth, blood smeared on his face as a bruise formed. The man looked down at Malik quietly for several minutes, apparently looking him over and thinking to himself before smirking.

"You're an arrogant punk, aren't you? I could have you and your family beheaded from the way you're talking to me. What's to stop me from doing so, iMalik/i?"

"The fact that my sister is in Egypt, for one!" Malik hissed, goosebumps rising. This man had enough power to do that and get away with it!? "Pharaoh Atemu would never allow you do do such a thing! I may be the only son of a Tomb Keeper, but I am still important in his eyes!" The man's eyebrows shot up before a dark laugh escaped.

"The Tomb Keepers' son...? Do you mean the Tomb Keeper that was executed six months ago for kidnapping the young women of my harem and selling them off across the seas?" His harem...? The only people that knew the exact reasons of the execution were himself and-

"Lord Asino... was your father?!" Another dark laugh was all the answer he got. That, and a narrowing of the eyes and a really scary smirk.

Oh shit. He should've stayed in Egypt with Ishizu.

--

That's all I'm writing for now. My sunburn is killing me, and I'm still plotting for the next chapter. See you next time!

ALSO! I want everyone's opinion on this!

Should I make this part of a series, where each 'fic' focuses on one couple? It will all take place at about the same time as this one.

Send me your opinion via review!

Signing out,

Kiharu


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